Low, on the utmost bound'ry of the sight,
The rising vapors catch the silver light;
Thence Fancy measures, as they parting fly,
Which first will throw its shadow on the eye,
Passing the source of light; and thence away,
Succeeded quick by brighter still than they.
Far yet above these wafted clouds are seen
(In a remoter sky, still more serene,)
Others, detached in ranges through the air,
Spotless as snow, and countless as they're fair;
Scattered immensely wide from east to west,
The beauteous semblance of a flock at rest.

BLOOMFIELD.

FROST.

FOR every shrub and every blade of grass, And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass ; In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, While through the ice the crimson berries glow; The thick-sprung reeds the watery marshes yield Seem polished lances in a hostile field; The spreading oak, the beech, and tow'ring pine, Glazed over, in the freezing ether shine;

SNOW.

The frighted birds the rattling branches shun,
That wave and glitter in the distant sun;
When, if a sudden gust of wind arise,

The brittle forest into atoms flies.

115

PHILLIPS.

SNOW.

TO-MORROW brings a change,-a total change!
Which even now, though silently performed,
And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face
Of universal nature undergoes.

Fast falls a fleecy shower: the downy flakes
Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse,
Softly alighting upon all below,

Assimilate all objects. Earth receives

Gladly the thickening mantle; and the green

And tender blade, that feared the chilling blast,
Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil.

COWPER.

FODDERING CATTLE.

THE cattle mourn in corners, where the fence
Screens them; and seem half petrified to sleep
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait
Their wonted fodder; not like hungering man,
Fretful if unsupplied; but silent, meek,
And patient of the slow-paced swain's delay.
He from the stack carves out the accustomed load,
Deep-plunging, and again deep-plunging, oft,
His broad keen knife into the solid mass;
Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands,
With such undeviating and even force
He severs it away; no needless care,
Lest storms should overset the leaning pile.
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight.

COWPER.

SKATING.

AND in the frosty season, when the sun

Was set, and, visible for many a mile,

The cottage-windows through the twilight blazed, I heeded not the summons: happy time

It was indeed for all of us; for me

It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud
The village-clock tolled six-I wheeled about,

Proud and exulting, like an untired horse

That cares not for his home.-All shod with steel
We hissed along the polished ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the chase

And woodland pleasures,―the resounding horn,
The pack loud-chiming, and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle: with the din
Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;

The leafless trees and every icy crag

Tinkled like iron; while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound

Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west

The orange sky of evening died away.

Not seldom from the uproar I retired

Into a silent bay, or sportively

Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,

To cut across the reflex of a star;

Image, that, flying still before me, gleamed

Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes,

When we had given our bodies to the wind,

And all the shadowy banks on either side

Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,

Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me-even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round!

Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watched

Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.

WORDSWORTH.

REFLECTIONS UPON WINTER.

THOUGH now no more the musing ear

Delights to listen to the breeze,

That lingers o'er the green-wood shade,
I love thee, Winter! well.

Sweet are the harmonies of Spring,
Sweet is the Summer's evening gale,

And sweet the Autumnal winds that shake

The many-colored grove.